


Quietude

by Cres



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, God I hate tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9216068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cres/pseuds/Cres
Summary: New life to live and new things to become accustomed too. The world is now overflowing with ways to get hurt, to lose yourself and lose others.You're well on your way already. What happens when you come face to face with a reminder that you can come back?Will you allow yourself to feel again? Can you find it in you to try again?Or will the madness that consumes the world now quietly absorb you with it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of jumping, we're starting mid season 2 guys! This is definitely an alternate universe, and I have some sweet plot ideas that I'd like to explore. Super open to suggestions! <3

The silence that now encompasses the world is almost as terrifying as the sounds that break it. There are no longer busy people, lights, trains, or cars to attest for the lives of individuals. No phone ringing, texts beeping; no records to spin on a vinyl player or speakers to sing with. Voices are hushed and sparse now.

 

Whenever this palpable quiet gets interrupted, something terrible always happens.

Without fail.

 

This time, I was trying to find a place to sleep.

 

On the road and in search of food, I found myself in an abandoned town a couple miles from a railroad that heads North. It was the direction I found myself naturally drawn to. In my various attempts at staying alive, I always moved North.

 

This quaint town was hidden by a million trees, and the road that passed through was nearly entirely covered in dried, dead leaves. Had I not been tracking after a cottontail, I wouldn’t have felt the asphalt of the road under all the foliage.

 

I had lost the cottontail but quickly came upon the small and barren group of buildings. It couldn’t have held more than 200 people.

 

After poking around a bunch of empty business buildings, I found myself walking down a neighborhood. Within one of the larger townhouses, I was able to find an assortment of canned goods, a couple of tampons and pads, and a pair of kitchen knives. It was the best haul I’d come across in weeks. 

 

After going about four to five more houses surrounding the first one, the sun was high. I made my way back to the larger townhouse and looked for a place to sleep. My eye caught on to a beautiful wine colored wicker chair, and that’s when I heard it.

 

A gun shot.

 

Clear and present, no further than 5 miles away.

 

My eyes tore from the wine wicker chair and drew towards the door. I pegged the large wicker chair against it immediately and darted for the stairs, just as I was above ground level I heard voices. Loud and determinant.

 

“Alright, Glenn let’s take the big one first.”

 

Biting my lip, realizing that ‘Glenn’ and loud ‘southern boy’ were going to search through the house I was currently trapped in, I hurriedly locked myself in one of the smaller upstairs bedrooms and shakingly drew an arrow from my quiver.

 

Suddenly, there was a series of heavy blows to the door. I could hear the legs of the wicker chair inch across the floorboards with every collision. Each one sent goosebumps all over my body in anticipation and fear. It had been well over six months since I’ve encountered another human being. The last person I met was a threat against my life, and I took care of the situation in a rather unnaturally violent matter. What will it be like if I have to confront these people? What do I say? What will they say? And more importantly, what will they do?

 

As I came to acknowledge the fact that there are actual _people_ out there, the scenarios automatically played in my head. Needless to say, someone died in most of them.

 

I decided to unlock the door and wait for them at the foot of the stairs. There had to something wrong with me because half of my body protested furiously against the idea of being ‘civil.' But I was already out and exposed.

 

Slowly, I drew the arrow to my bow and pulled back as hard as I could; ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

 

Sequentially the wicker was out of the way and across the living room, and the front door swung in hard against the wall beside it. Both men drew their weapons and glided in, making no noise in contrast to what had just happened-. I instantaneously knew who ‘southern boy’ was, the man behind him had features of Asian decent, there was no way in hell his accent could be that thick. The man on point had to be him, and he was the complete opposite of a boy. He had a generous amount of curly brown hair and a sharp jawline that was cloaked in dark stubble.

 

Definitely not a boy.

 

The Asian man who I assumed was Glenn saw me instantly, pointing his gun at me and then nudging the man next to him. Both of them stared at me with wide, surprised eyes. I assumed it was because of the bow, and kept very still; bowstring still stretched.

 

“Are you with anyone?” Glenn asked abruptly.

 

I furrowed my brows and tried to think of all the possible answers I could give but the truth.

 

The man next to him began to move, and I quickly pointed my arrow towards him out of instinct.

 

“Woah, look, I’m puttin’ my gun down.” And he did. On the floor, and even kicked it away.

 

I still kept my arrow on him, and finally, open my mouth to speak.

“I’m alone.” I noticed their expressions when I had finished speaking. I had almost forgotten what my voice sounded like. I knew they were thrown off by my accent.

 

Just as I spoke, from the corner of my eye, I saw a geek stumbling into the open door frame. My arrow had been itching to fly, and it struck right where its eyes met. Glenn and the other man nearly jumped out of their skin when they saw me let go, my movements were too quick for them not to be alarmed.

 

As they turned back around, I took a step down the stairs with caution and drew another arrow.

 

“We have a farm. With people, food, walls, water, and guns. You can come with us.” Glenn offered, his gun too, now lowered and his facial expressions had softened.

 

The grip I had on my bow had tightened, and the string was practically cutting through my fingers.

 

Me? Offered to stay with people? They had water and more food?

 

My hands and thoughts were the only parts of me that were tensed, from the looks on their faces I could tell I was unreadable to them.

 

Although I was very uncomfortable with the thought of having to be around people, especially since it’s been so long, I considered stomping out my pride and spitting on it. I desperately needed to shower, and having walls didn’t sound horrible. None of it did. Sure, I don’t know these people, and they don’t know me; but at this point, I’ve literally got nothing to lose.

 

Slowly, coming to terms with my decision, I sheath my bow and slowly make my way down the last of the stairs. Standing in front of them both, I looked into the older man’s eyes and stated my dubiousness plainly on my face.

 

“Don’t you have too many? How can you possibly be stable if you’re just offering people to come stay with you?” I pressed, I needed to.

 

I noticed Glenn looked over at Rick, from the corner of my eye. There was a subtle uncertainty in his look too. They must’ve had a lot of people, a lot of hurt people. Which made it harder for me to accept their help. They didn’t seem like liars. Glenn was too expressive, and the other man seemed convincing worried.

 

I tossed these thoughts around my head until I heard Glenn swallow hard. My eyes still glued onto the older one, he opened his mouth to speak.

 

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but you don’t look like someone who can turn down the offer.” He almost struggled to say this, as if he was concerned on whether or not I would lash out. His choice of words took me by surprise.

 

I clenched my jaw and looked him straight in the eye as I spoke, “I’d be grateful.”

 

Slowly and softly, I agreed with a hushed okay. I didn’t know why I whispered. Maybe it was because I was scared. Glenn then pointed towards the duffle bag I left lying on the living room coffee table.

 

“Did you find all of that in here?” They must’ve been out on a run for their group.

 

“Yeah,”

 

They let me throw the duffle over my shoulder and help them search the rest of the house. We walked out with another duffle bag worth of canned food, two rifles with about a clip and half, and 3 bottles of ibuprofen.

 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” The man with the southern accent was the first to break the silence after we left the larger house to search one of the smaller ones. He kept his eyes on me, and they did not waver.

 

“Yeah, what is it?”

 

“You got a name?”

 

“Well, of course, I do.”

 

“You mind letting me know?”

 

“Only if you give me yours.” I couldn’t let the mood thicken anymore that it already has. He smiled a bit.

 

“My name’s Rick. I don’t suppose last names matter, but just in case they do, it's Grimes.” This was the first time I noticed the color of his eyes. They were bright blue and profound. Reflective on how shitty everything had been for him. There was so much pain, I couldn’t have seen the half of it. Maybe, if either of us lived long enough, he’d tell me. Maybe I’d tell him.

 

“Janey. Janey Springs.” If I could smile, I would. But I couldn’t, so I just put out my hand. He met my gesture with a firm shake. His hands were almost as calloused as mine, and the warmth that was in his touch stirred me.

* * *

 

The other houses were bare. I watched them silently as they loaded their vehicle with what little they’d found in the remaining houses. Glenn came over to me and offered to throw my duffle in the back, I accepted and watched him in anticipation of whatever could happen next.

 

I rode in the back of the Civic with Rick while Glenn drove.

 

He stared at me for a long time before deciding to speak again.

 

“Where’s you accent from?” I would’ve blurted out laughing if he wasn’t so serious.

 

“Australia. I came to Georgia on holiday.”

 

“Must’ve been one hell of a holiday.” Glenn was the one with the sense of humor.

 

This time, I smiled and looked back up at Rick. His face had smoothed over.

 

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so shitty after all.

 

“So what kinda holiday were you on?” Rick asked, and it didn’t sound forced.

 

“School.”

 

“What’d you study?”

 

“I was gonna be a music performance major.”

 

“How far did you get?” Rick seemed fully engaged in our conversation now, he sat facing me, and he was looking into my eyes.

 

“You don’t look too old,” Glenn added.

 

“Just 4 years, I finished high school pretty early.” Rick’s eyebrows raised as I finished my sentence. I answered his following question before he could form the words.

 

“I’m 21.” Rick just nodded, and then faced forward. It seemed like our conversation had died at that.

 

Glenn, on the other hand, decided to pick up where Rick left off.

 

“Like we told you before, we have a farm; with food, clean water, and a lot of land. We can see walkers for miles before they can get anywhere near us.”

 

He then looked at me through the rearview mirror and assured me.

 

“It’s safe, and we have enough people to keep it that way.”

 

People. That was my biggest concern. After everything had happened, the people I’ve met so far had completely lost their humanity. Slowly, I came to terms with it. Maybe it was something that just had to happen. Like animals that adapt to different climates or new predators.

 

“How many?” Although I was shaky on the subject change, my voice did not waver.

 

“More than fifteen,” Rick answered.

 

I would’ve thrown up if I had anything solid in my stomach.

 

“That’s _a lot_ of people,” I stated, plainly. As if saying it aloud would ease the thought.

 

I could’ve sworn I heard Glenn swallow hard, and Rick made a note of us coming close to the farm.

* * *

 

As soon as we arrived, Rick pulled me from the eyes of the others and introduced me to the owner of the farm, an elder named Hershal. He didn’t seem too keen on me being around, but after he had caught eye of all that I brought with me, he stopped protesting. I did my very best to stay out of everyone else’s way, setting up the few things I owned and was left with from the supply run done earlier, away in one of the farthest corners of the skirts of the farm.

 

Meeting others was the least of my concerns, and I wanted to postpone that activity as much as possible.

 

I could hear the soft echo of arguing, and I tried to block it out as much as I could. From the direction of the sounds, I could see a figure inching closer to me. It was a man’s.

* * *

 

“You gotta name?”

 

The man before me was lean and well built. He had patches of facial hair on his chin and upper lip,  the hair on his head was nowhere near tame, but still managed to look soft.

 

It was a striking shade of auburn.

 

He was scrutinizing me intently so I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes.

 

As soon as I noticed the crossbow in his left hand, I made a hypothesis. Either I was going to get along with him, or we were going to end up killing each other.

 

While the time to respond substantially decreased, I weighed my options on whether or not I should interact with him at all.

 

“You gonna respond or what?” He raised his voice, and I eyed him back.

 

“Janey.”

 

 He, like Rick and Glenn, raised his brows when he heard my accent. Something about him stirred me, I just couldn’t figure out if it was clockwise or counter.

 

Just then, there was shouting coming from the farm.

 

“Daryl.”

 

As he gave me his name, I was already in motion. I threw my quiver over my shoulder and pulled my bow from under a sheet I had laid in the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daryl watching as he moved with me. We both started sprinting towards the screams. I could make out enough words to know shit was hitting the fan.

 

It hadn’t more than a couple of hours.

 

“Shane, stop this shit right now.”

 

As Daryl and I approached the Barnhouse where everyone was gathered, the first thing I saw was Rick, Hershel, and some other kid with live geeks on hooks. The man who I assumed was Shane was jumping around the Barnhouse screaming his head off and spouting utter nonsense.

 

“You heard Glenn, Rick’s been lying to us all along. Hershel and his family have walkers kept in the barn. He’s been feeding them, and Rick’s been helping him. All behind our fucking backs!”

 

Shane was wired, and Rick couldn’t do jack shit with a geek on a leash.

 

He kept yelling, and then pulled out a gun on Rick. Daryl immediately lifted his bow, and I followed suite. I moved closer so I could get a clear shot of the geeks and drew.

 

Silence fell as soon as the geeks did.

 

Everyone was looking at me, but I could only look at Shane. He was built, more so than anyone else in the group, and he had a buzz cut. He could’ve either been a cop or convict.

 

His gaze kept bouncing between Rick and me, I couldn’t tell which one of us he wanted to shoot first. The anticipation was horrendous, and when Shane opened his mouth, I sucked in a quick breath and watched him.

 

Instead of talking, he spat on the ground and stormed towards the Barnhouse door. I was unaware of it at first, but now that Shane and everyone else’s attention was drawn towards it, I jerked my arrows out the geeks and moved closer.

 

The Barnhouse door was rattling furiously against the weak iron hinges. Loud moans and groans were coming from behind. With one last furry induced yell, Shane shot the padlock and kicked the wood loose.

 

Immediately, geeks pushed and shoved out of the barn, like kids rushing to enter a theme park. I couldn’t move. For such a rush of a situation, my body was struck with confusion and disbelief.

 

They were keeping geeks in a fucking barn.

 

My knees were locked in place, but I managed to force my arms to move. One by one, I let my arrows fly, with each and every one I kept telling myself to run and get the hell away from here. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, though.

 

When the gunfire ceased, and geeks had piled up in front of the barn, quietly I walked forward.

Toward the barn.

 

There was one last stifled moan coming from behind the dark of the barn.

 

I waited in spite of my curiosity. Everyone began paying attention as the raspy noise became more apparent.

 

 

There was a quiet shuffle, and slowly a small figure crawled out of the barn.

 

It was a little girl.

 

From behind me, I could hear the cries of a woman. The girl’s name was Sophia. Before I could react, Rick walked up next to me, put a bullet in her forehead, and she fell with a pathetic thud.

 

I turned around slowly to face the group, knowing exactly what I was going to see when I did. Everyone had sunken faces. Hershal was on the ground, staring off.

 

Slowly, I put the pieces together.


End file.
